All You Got For Me is Lite Beer?
by Blind Spot
Summary: The events in the McFly's lives on October 25th, 1985, including Biff's accident. BEING REVISED AND EXPANDED YET AGAIN (Dec '04).rnrnNOTE: The "new" chapter 9, should go between 2 & 3. I'm currently in the process of editing the whole thing.
1. A Typical Morning

DISCLAIMER: I do not own BTTF. If I did, the movies would be 10 hours long instead of 2.

The following is a possible account of what happened that day. Ever since I first started watching BTTF, this always confused me. Why George was in his work clothes, and Biff had his car. I also wanted to incorporate him and Lorraine into the story a little more, as with Biff. We don't honestly learn a lot about them in 1985. Also, notice the names of some of the minor characters, as well as a few other subtle jokes.

Friday, October 25th, 1985.

6:27 AM.

Hill Valley, California.

_"They say the heart of rock and roll is still beating, and from what I've seen, I believe 'em. Now, the old boy may be barely breathin', but the heart of rock 'n roll, heart of rock 'n roll is still beatin!"_

The chorus of this Huey Lewis hit woke Marty McFly as the sun was barely starting to rise. The teen groggily came to life in one of his normal outfits; a red T-shirt, purple Calvin Klein's, and blue Guess jeans. Marty's love for rock, especially Huey Lewis, was evident with a large poster from Huey's latest album, _Sports,_ hanging on Marty's wall. However, this morning, he wished the heart of rock and roll could beat silently. Within seconds, though, Marty couldn't help but to sing along to the song that was broadcasting from Sacramento's AOR station, 93.7 (_93 Rock)_ from 70 miles away.

_"L.A., Hollywood, and the Sunset Strip, is something everyone should see. Neon lights and the pretty, pretty girls-"_

The teen looked at the clock, and talked aloud as he often did. "6:30, damn! Guess I gotta get up. Can't forget to stop by Doc's place before school," he said to himself at normal speaking volume, slowly walking toward the nearest bathroom just down the hallway.

Unfortunately, for him, he'd killed too much time showering and getting ready. It was already 7:15 as he walked into the kitchen, noticing his father at the table.

George McFly was already wearing his work clothers: a plain white dress shirt and tie. He looked to be slowly eating Rice Krispie's cereal, one of his favorite breakfasts. He was also half-heartedly working on a few papers, and one could easily get the impression he didn't enjoy whatever it was.

"Morning, dad. Getting ready for work?"

It took the man a couple seconds to respond. "Oh, good morning son."

"Hey, I wondered if you could, ya know, drop me off at Doc's place this morning? If we take off soon, I'll still have enough time before school," Marty asked, although he figured he could possibly skate to his scientist friend's garage to practice some chords on his amplifier. Normally, he would just cut it close himself and wouldn't care much about being at school on time. However, in the past week, he'd gotten three tardies in a row (and a fourth meant a detention).

"I would, but, uhh, Biff wanted me to turn these reports in yesterday, so I better finish it and get into work before he gets upset with me," his father shrugged.

Marty took a step back and sighed in disappointment. He was more than used to Biff bullying his dad around, so this wasn't exactly an unexpected answer, but he still was upset hearing it.

"Dad, come on. If you don't have time to drop me off, that's fine, but what are you doing this for? That's his work, the guy's gotta learn to do it himself. Why can't you just please tell him to back off?"

George couldn't disagree, but didn't feel comfortable doing things any different.

"I don't know, son, I'm just doing him a favor," the shaky, slightly high voice said, looking down, mulling over a few figures.

Marty interrupted. "Why do him favors? He's a jerk. I mean, when was the last time he did anything nice for you?"

Deep inside, he agreed with his younger son, but didn't see any point in arguing over something he was used to. "Yes, but I can't afford to get in trouble at work. You know how he gets when he's mad, so I just as soon do it the easy way."

Before Marty could protest further, Lorraine came into the living area looking slightly depressed, as she had been lately. Ever since getting fired from her job as secretary at the Social Services building (located in the old Courthouse) a few weeks earlier for drinking, she hadn't been happy about life in general and often took it out on her family. Not to say she was ever June Cleaver, but she still tried to at least find some things to be happy about, even if that was almost nothing recently.

"Marty, are you about to run off to school like that? You know you can't go on an empty stomach," she told her younger son.

"Thanks mom, but if I'm gonna eat, it'll have to be fast. I gotta stop at Doc's. I haven't seen him all week.

Although Lorraine had grown to accept her son's somewhat unorthodox meeting and friendship with the much older man for the past three-and-a-half years, in the back of her mind, she still didn't like it, for her own reasons.

"Not more about him, Marty. I know you two are close, but don't you think it's a bit strange for you to be friendly with him like that? You already have other friends closer to your age. If he was 25 or 35, that would be different, but not 65!" she said, still rambling as she started up on breakfast. "He was almost 50 before you were even born. What could you have in common with him?"

Marty didn't want to have to say the same thing a million times to different people. _Why can't everyone else just get it? Sure, Doc is a bit older, but he's a million times more interesting than anyone here is._

"Mom, do we have to talk about this again? So what if he's like 45 years older than me. Remember when he used to pay me for helping him out? Sure it was nice having money, but I did it because I wanted to, just 'cause he's a great guy. He still helps me out with homework, too."

Lorraine relented a little at that. "I know he's a nice man, but I just think it's strange how much time a teenager spends with him. Besides, I thought you didn't even like science. In Elementary school, you told me it was for boring people." Turning to look through the kitchen opening at the dining room table, she asked, "What do you think, George?"

George heard stories that everyone had, about so-called _crazy old Doc Brown_. He however knew Marty had nothing but good things to say about him, and often affirmed that he wasn't crazy, but just misunderstood and a bit lonely. George himself had felt like an outcast many times, so he could identify with that. As usual though, he never took sides against anyone, so he answered Lorraine sheepishly.

"Well, I think Doc is okay, but I haven't talked to him that much, so I, I can't be too sure."

Lorraine knew she wasn't going to get any support from George, so she brought up a subject that no one particularly liked; her 32 year-old brother Joey. He was due up for parole that day for a drug possession conviction four years earlier. Aside from his biggest sister, no one in the house particularly liked him.

Dave & Linda came stumbling out of their rooms, at almost the same time.

"Good morning you two," she said casually before raising her voice slightly, so as to be heard by everyone. "Listen, kids, Uncle Joey might be getting parole today. He's going to be staying here for the weekend and I expect him to feel welcome. I'm baking him a cake this afternoon."

Marty was getting impatient by now, just itching to take off. He quickly said his piece, "I know he's not perfect, but why does he have to stay here, in my room, no less? What if when I'm gone out with J--the guys--camping tomorrow, he decides to steal one of my albums, or look through my desk?"

"Martin Seamus McFly, he just made a few mistakes in the past. He's family and I don't want you or anybody else to talk about him that way," Lorraine said, tensing up a little.

He quickly backed off, knowing when his full name was used, it was usually serious. Dave had to say something though. "I always get the creeps whenever that guy is here. Ya know, every family has got a black sheep, mom; Joey's as big as a donkey!" He laughed at his own silly, yet mean-spirited joke, acting like a class clown as he often did.

Linda didn't always get along with her two brothers, but shared in their loathing for Joey staying at their house. "Yeah, how do we even know what he does all the time? What if he gets busted for coke tomorrow? Are you still gonna bail him out and let him crash here?"

Lorraine got a little more annoyed, just wanting some support. She felt like she was the only one who had any feelings for this member of their family. In fact, the way she felt about Joey was not unlike how Marty felt about Doc.

Dave interrupted her train of thought yet again. "You know what else is sad? The dude is ten years older than me and I already make more than he does working the drive-thru!"

"Shut up everyone!" Lorraine said, finally near-yelling. "Joey is staying here, like it or not, and I'm going to welcome him into our home, even if no one else cares to!" Oddly enough, despite her (especially recent) short temper, she rarely actually yelled – usually speaking in more of a semi depressed lecture tone – so everyone froze in their tracks, knowing she was seriously annoyed now.

Marty offered a quick and low, but sincere, "Okay, mom, I'm off it, I understand." The sentiment seemed mutual from everyone. George laughed nervously and backed up his chair a little. He didn't want the tirade to continue, so he offered a quick solution.

"Uhh, Lorraine, couldn't we let Joey stay on the couch? It does fold out into a bed. That's where Marty's friends have stayed before," he said, unsure of himself.

Always the first to defend his semi dorky father, Dave said, "Yeah, pop is right. I think that bed is in perfect shape, huh? Joey oughta be fine with it!"

After a few calmer minutes, Marty looked at the clock and noted it was 7:26. He could no longer take this if he had any hope of getting to school on time. He grabbed his red backpack, Valtera skateboard and guitar before leaving.

"I've really gotta go! Bye, see you guys tonight," he said, running out the front door and skating off, not even stopping to shut the door behind him.

George had been distracted again by the recent commotion and lost track of where he was with the papers. He didn't know what time Biff would be at work, but George didn't want to chance it. He thought if he left now, he'd have some time at the office to catch up on everything. Besides, right now, he would almost rather work around Biff than risk anything that would make his wife angry (which would scare him a little. She was head of the household in a way!). He clumsily grabbed his keys, a few papers and a big briefcase before heading to the front door, still left open by a rushed-off Marty.

"We're having that big conference, you know, and I want to be there before Biff arrives. I have to go too," George said, greeted with a half-hearted goodbye, as did his two other kids, as he briskly walked out.


	2. The Office Conference

AUTHOR NOTES: If you look really closely at the beginning of Part 1, you can see George has a band-aid on his left thumb. More than likely, Crispin Glover had been wearing it for something similar when filming was taking place, but nobody cared and/or didn't notice. However, I made up an explanation for how "George" got it.

7:30 AM.

George left the house and jumped into his white, already semi beat-up and noisy 1977 Plymouth Reliant. He was still afraid of Lorraine getting mad. Trying the engine twice before it kicked over, and rather loudly, he hastily left Lyon Estates and turned west onto what would become Route 395.

He had only about a 15-minute drive into the neighboring town of Grass Valley to his work, 8 miles away. As luck would have it, after making it through the town part of Hill Valley, he was backed up in a rush of morning traffic. It wasn't that much, but since the road was only two-lanes, it was at a crawl. He turned on the radio almost immediately, and listened to an audiotape of a _Marx Brothers_ radio show.

George was intently listening. About 4 miles from his house, just past the other side of downtown Hill Valley, he got carried away in the tape. As traffic picked up a little, he started laughing hysterically and accidentally swerved into the oncoming lane of traffic. Suddenly he looked up to hear a loud horn honking, and a big Hippie-style Volkswagen van drive by. George jerked back into his lane at light speed, narrowly avoiding a possible head-on collision.

As the van drove by, pulling back in from running onto the emergency lane, the man slowed down just enough to yell, "Watch where you're going, blind slacker! I have to get to school to hand out discipline!"

Even though he knew Marty's vice-principal wouldn't hear, he said, "I'm sorry I, wasn't looking."

Soon, traffic again slowed to a dead stop. Hoping to get more work done, George got out his reports and started copying some more things down. Because he was writing in the car, it wasn't really neat. He knew Biff would want them immediately. Sure he might be annoyed if they were sloppily written, but he'd be madder if they weren't done at all. Within five minutes, he was able to complete one more page. He would save the big handwriting for the office.

A few minutes after 8 A.M., he pulled into the parking lot at Hill County Bank & Trust, where he and Biff both worked as loan officers. Just after George made it inside, Biff himself got out of the passenger seat of an approaching car.

"Hey, thanks for the ride, 3-D. I'll meet you at your house tonight."

His old high school gang-member and friend said "Oh yeah, Biff. Bring a 12-pack too, the guys are all gonna be there!"

"Yeah, man, I'll sneak out before that craphead can say anything," he said, referring to his boss and laughed as he walked inside. When he opened the door, everyone stayed out of his way, except for a few general "Mornin' Biff" greetings. He went up to George, who, by now, was at his desk.

"Hey, McFly."

"Oh, hey there Biff, I didn't see you. How are you doing?"

"Fine. Listen, boss is getting on everybody's case lately, including mine. Remember that company meeting at 9:00?"

George had almost forgot after everything that happened that morning. "The meeting? Oh, yeah, about finances and all that. I remembered Biff, I just don't know if I'm ready for that yet. He seems like he's been upset at everyone lately."

Biff did somewhat agree. "Yeah, McFly. I never like meetings. We know he's gonna find something else wrong that we're all doing and make some smartass comments to everyone. By the way, what about those reports I gave you last night?"

"Uh, yeah, I've got them here with me, I looked them over in the car too. Those are a lot of figures on there, but I can recopy them."

Apparently they were still good enough, since it was mostly numbers. Biff changed the subject. "Tell me, how's the wife now, McFly?"

"Not so good, Biff, but, uh, Joey might be out of jail tonight, but she's angry becaue no one wants him to stay at the house. I suppose he's okay, but I was never his best friend or anything like that."

After belching at an ungodly volume (and earning him a few dirty looks), Biff's voice deepened, "Jailbird Joey I like to call him. Lorraine still fawns over him just cause he's her _ba-by bro-ther_," heavily emphasizing sarcasm and imitation of her voice on the last two words.

George weakly muttered "Yep" to himself as Biff talked. He habitually did this just to show him he was still listening. "She's always felt that way about him, maybe it's a mothering thing. He was just a little baby when we were all seniors in high school."

"He's a loser, that's all there is to it," Biff said as he simultaneously went over to his desk. A minute or two later, he brought out a big box and putting it at the foot of George's office. "McFly, copy these for me. I don't need that butthead riding me and everybody needs them."

Sitting near him was a cardboard box that must have weighed 50 pounds, literally filled with papers and other office supplies Biff had. George didn't particularly want to, but said, "Okay, Biff, I'll get as much of this done before the meeting as possible."

A less patient person might've been tempted to pick the box up and throw it at Biff's head after all he'd make George do, but the skinny man simply put all that aside. Lifting the bulky box easier than his small stature would lead you to believe, he went out of the main area and down a hallway where the break room was. Inside sat the large black & white copy machine.

Lightly sighing to himself, he set the box down and opened the lid. After spending over half an hour at the task, it was almost finished. Just as he lifted the copy machine's lid to put another paper in, he glanced over at the room's clock. Seeing it indicated the time was 9:01, he instinctively jerked the paper back with his right hand, where it rubbed a little too close to his left thumb.

"Aaah!" he said at a mildly loud volume, grabbing a paper towel with his other hand. It took him a minute or so to find a band-aid to put on the small papercut he'd accidentally given himself. Knowing he was already running slightly late, he left the box as it was, hoping Biff wouldn't notice until he could get to it later.

As soon as he got back into the main area of the bank (now in a slight run), president James Strickland - younger brother of Hill Valley High's vice principal, Gerald - called the meeting on with several employees. He opened the door of his office and proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for our company conference! You knew about it, everybody pile into the conference room now." As he could see people were hurrying in, he continued. "Don't be tardy either, drop everything you're doing. That means you, Mr. Tannen," he said, pointing. After a pause, he continued, "and especially you, Mr. McFly."

Before it started and as everyone began to sit down, the 64-year-old man took a sip of coffee before spitting it out into the garbage can. "What the hell is this? This coffee is cold, damn it!" He looked at George and said "McFly, since some loser doesn't know how to maintain a simple machine, go get me a good cup of decaf from the store across the street, would you?"

It was enough to have Biff tell him what to do, but two people at the same time would be enough to drive anyone crazy. He laughed as he tried a slight protest by another suggestion. "Well, sir, maybe it just got cold because it, uh, was sitting there for a long time. The machine should be okay, what if you just tried that again?"

The boss was getting madder. "Arguing with your boss, that's pretty nervy. Do you want me to take money out of your next paycheck? If not, than I suggest you go to the Circle K, Mr. McFly."

George just said his usual statement. "Okay, I'll come back in a few minutes. And, I know you don't want cream either."

Most other employees ignored this incident, or frowned to themselves. They were all too used to both the bank President, and Biff being bullies and getting angry with people. Strickland then said, "Losers, just look over your reports and think about your work performance, before I decide for you. As soon as McFly gets back with my caffeine, we will begin our meeting!"

After a few minutes, George came back with a 30-ounce container. "Here you go sir, I checked it before I left, it's hot just like you want it."

"Thank you, McFly, now we shall begin the meeting."

Once behind closed doors, Strickland began going over a few business topics. "We're talking about finances first. As many of you know, the economy is in a recession, thanks to our Republican president Reagan. Because of this, our customers will be-"

Biff tried to interject when the rigid boss was talking. Biff loved to annoy him by doing this. It reminded him so much of annoying his brother from his teen years at school.

"Yes Mr. Tannen, what do you have to say now that's so important you interrupted my speech?"

In a sarcastic voice, Biff said the obvious. "Well, sir, let me understand what you're saying. People will be more careful with their money now because of the recession. Of course they're gonna watch it 'cause they don't have as much to watch, right?"

Strickland's face turned angry. He quickly dropped the papers in his hand, almost throwing them on his executive chair. He ran up toward Biff. "Always a smart mouth, Tannen! You're middle-aged, but you're just like you were in high school. My brother told me about it, because he deals with losers like you, your kids, and Mr. McFly's kids all day too! Just one thing, why do you say anything in these meetings if you don't plan on helping out?"

Than, in almost a nod to teen party slacker Jeff Spicoli from _Fast Times At Ridgemont High,_ Biff said, "I don't know."

At that, his boss got red faced, almost yelling at Biff in front of his co-workers. "I can't believe I make special privileges for you and let you come into a professional environment wearing those ugly plaid pants and that green suit that looks like the color of my brother's hippie van."

Biff tried to shut him up, even though he was beginning to get mad. "Hey, I usually don't wear this to work. But, my other stuff is in the dirty clothes basket, and if I wore my good clothes as they are, you'd be madder." Now, laughing again, he asked, "Or, would you rather I came in PJ's?"

"I just said the clothes can stay, even if they're secondhand material, but I have a feeling you've been here intoxicated here too with dumb comebacks like that. I've been second-guessing your supervisor position. Just watch it, because one day you'll be caught, I'll demote you and have you right where I want you, as a bank teller!" Turning away and pausing, he let his last bit of steam out. "Loser!"

Biff got a look of disgust and anger in his face, the common stress making him look older than some of his peers. Strickland calmed down slightly before turning to George. "What do you think of the money situation, and what we should do, McFly?"

George didn't like business meetings and never knew the right thing to say. "I'm not sure, Mr. Strickland. Maybe we could raise interest rates on people's savings accounts. Than they might pick us over, like something else, uh, like Bank Of America," he improvised.

"Interest rates, McFly? That's better than nothing and it might work for now, but it's no long-term solution. You always give the easiest answer to everything, don't you?" He than said, "Right now, our new tellers make almost as much as you do. Some of them are young enough to be in your children's age range. Come up with something better or you'll be working below them."

George just muttered, "Yes sir, I'll do my best."

Yep. This was gonna be a long day indeed.


	3. History is Gonna Change

Hill Valley High School.  
8:33 A.M.

"Yeah, well, history's gonna change," Marty McFly said slowly, but confidently as he stared down his vice-principal-- now standing an uncomfortable couple inches away from his own face -- slightly annoyed at the man for consistently putting him(among others) down.

"Take that tone with me one more time, young man, and you'll be in detention every day until 1986! Assuming you graduate at all," Gerald Strickland shot back, a little surprised by McFly talking back to him to that much of an extent. "Now, if you know what's good for you, get to class and be on your best behavior, Mr. McFly. I need to have a word with your young lady friend here."

Turning to Marty's ever-attentive girlfriend, as he walked briskly away, Strickland's demeanor was a little different. Jennifer usually didn't cut classes or even get tardies, for that matter. "Miss Parker," he began calmly, "I'm frankly disappointed in you. I realize you're dating a McFly, but why were you plotting to help the hooligan sneak onto school grounds this morning?"

Jennifer blushed a little, clearly embarrassed and torn between whose side to take.

"I'm sorry about that Mr. Strickland. It's just that the last three days, Marty was late because his watch isn't working that good. Plus, you know how he can get carried away with the slightest thing," she said, half-jokingly, but in an attempt to get him on her side as much as possible. "Umm, anyway, I kinda saw a pattern and figured he might be late today too. It's not really my nature to get anyone in trouble, but I didn't want him getting his 4th tardy slip."

"I can buy that, Miss Parker. Just don't allow that to happen again. I personally think it's a waste of time dating a kid like that, but I won't involve myself in your business, as long as it doesn't affect your behavior or your school performance. Now, I should contact your father about this, but I'll let it slide this instance, simply because you made the honor roll last semester. By the way, how long have you been dating that McFly boy?" he suddenly asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"A couple weeks before last Christmas. December 12th, I think," she said, matter-of-factly. True, she didn't care for him talking about her boyfriend like that, but ironically she wasn't mad at him in general.

"Well, that proves your knowing him didn't stop you from getting there. I just think it's turning into a vicious cycle. He hangs around his friend Doctor Brown enough to start becoming influenced by him, then Marty McFly starts to influence you into getting in trouble. As I stated though, unlike those two, I think you're smart enough to do the right thing. Maybe you can reverse the trend and turn him into a good student." Noting the time, he concluded the conversation with, "You can go to your first class now."

Giving each other a simple nod to acknowledge a goodbye, the disciplinarian stiffly and uprightly walked away, muttering to himself, "I'm gonna finally get that slacker!"

Walking down to the music history class on the upper floor of the building, the balding man opened the door and (although it was now a good 5 minutes into class time, and students were starting to study that morning's assignment) simply walked in and said, "Mr. Cregg. I need to have a word with you if that's okay."

Anthony Cregg, a man in his early 50's with a semi deep, loud & powerful voice and graying hair, said, "Keep workin' guys. I'll be right back."

"Hey Gerald, what can I do for ya?" he said, as they stepped just outside the classroom.

"Sorry to disturb you, Tony, but I've got a little favor to ask," he said, and without a segue or wasting any time, he continued, "You know a Martin McFly here? Was he ever in your class?"

"Certainly. Last year, he had my class on 19th century musical history. I admit I think he's a good kid underneath, but boy was he a smart aleck. He had the nerve to say that he knew it was gonna 'bore the hell out of him' because it 'didn't have rock & roll or anything since Elvis'. I joke you not, some of these kids have no appreciation for anything before 20 or 30 years ago."

Strickland nodded in agreement. "That sounds like something that slacker would say! Speaking of this, his band, The Pinheads, is slated to perform at the dance auditions today. I know you'll be there. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask you permanently disqualify them. That young man needs to learn a few life lessons the hard way."

Anthony Cregg smiled a bit, but asked, "C'mon Gerald. I know he's not the most scholastic or best behaving kid, but is that fair? Besides, what should I say? I can't just say they can't perform."

"I'm confident that you'll think of something. McFly sure likes to show off in front of people, especially his friends. Simply tell them they're out of tune, or that his choice of an even louder rendition of a song from Loverboy or Bryan Adams, or any other of those noisy bands he listens to, is not appropriate material for a school dance."

Laughing a bit, the teacher said, "I doubt it'll take him long to break one of those rules. You're right about the showing off too. He even told me I sounded like Huey Lewis in front of the whole class just for a laugh one day."

"He won't last long at any job he has with that attitude. Thank you for your troubles, Tony," Strickland said as he walked back down the hallways, actually cracking a bit of an evil smile.


	4. George at Work

3:30 PM.

After the three-hour meeting (two of which seemed to consist of insults and lame jokes), George had a tired day already. Once he finished his lunch at a nearby Denny's, everything was pretty much normal at work. In fact, by now, it had slowed enough for him to work on some papers that he seemed to be pretty secretive about.

_There was a big zombie from Planet Vulcan. He was about 7 feet tall with a skinny exterior. His spaceship landed here on Earth out in the desert, near area 51._

At that instant, he was suddenly interrupted by a knock on his office door. He grabbed the papers, quickly opened up a drawer and shoved them in. Running to the door, he said, "What, who is it?"

A happy-yet-nerdy voice came from the other side. "Oh, don't worry, George it's just me. Hey, there's someone here with me to see you. I think she made an appointment yesterday." As he walked away, he continued, "I think she made an appointment."

"I'm, I'm sorry, Lester I just forgot. There was just something else I was working on that I got into. I'm done with it now. You can send her in."

At the time, George's co-worker and former classmate, Lester, showed her in, before going back to his own office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. McFly. Remember I called yesterday?"

George pretended to know what she meant as he looked down and paced around his desk. "Oh, yeah, about your loan."

The woman was Shirley Peabody, daughter of successful farmer and pine tree grower, Otis. "That's right. I'm going to be moving to the city soon, and I need a home loan of $1,000."

That sounded like a large amount of money to George, even though he had more than that. "Oh, that's a lot."

Shirley inquired, "Oh, is it a problem, sir?"

Even if it were, George would never directly say it. He wouldn't put his foot down with anyone, even if they were wrong. That's why he was glad he wasn't in any authoritive position at work. "No, no, there's no problem at all. I was just commenting on that money. I wish I had that much to spend sometimes."

The mood was lightened a little bit now, so the somewhat younger blonde began to relax, even though she thought this guy was a major geek from all she'd heard. "I know how you feel, George. You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

"Of course not, now, I don't mind you calling me that."

He was uncomfortable as usual now. He didn't like dealing with problems of any kind, especially with people he didn't know. It didn't help either, that he was a little attracted to Ms. Peabody. To this day, he'd become a nervous wreck easily. Just the fact that she was being remotely friendly on a personal basis was enough. It hadn't changed much through the years, either. When he met Lorraine a few months before he turned 18, it had been the first time he even dated. This quick jump had an effect on him, even at this point in his life.

Shirley smiled and then sighed in bewilderment. George was just sitting at his desk, lost in thought and half laughing to himself. She had to break the ice again. "Hmmmmmm, so George, you worked here long?"

Doing his best, George came back to reality and sputtered, "Uh, sort of, I think. It's about to be 13 years. I started on March 15th, 1973. I don't mind it so much. It's the same as any other job," George himself even knew that he wasn't going to be very good at smalltalk. In an effort to take his mind off it, he went back to business. "I guess your credit history is pretty good," he said, hoping that was the case.

"Oh, never had a bad credit report in my life," she perked, sounding and looking much younger than her 39 years might indicate. "You can check. My husband and I are in the process of moving, and we should be able to pay it back within a few months. He's a struggling musician. 10 years younger than me."

That gave George another thing to discuss. "A Musician? You know, my son Marty is in a rock band with some of his good friends from school."

"That's interesting. Those two would probably get along."

"That's not hard to believe. Marty is very uncertain of playing for an audience, though. He sings and can play guitar fairly good, but he worries not everyone might like it. Or, what if he makes it big and MTV doesn't play him as much as somebody else?"

Sensing that George's personality traits might be carrying over to his seemingly much cooler son, she frowned. "Your son will just have to keep playing, like my man did, and still does." Wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, she now got straight to the point. "Now look, I can give you collateral. Will that be necessary?"

"Collateral, you're asking? No, I don't think so. I trust that your credit is okay. You said you'd pay it back, and that should be alright."

After filling out a few papers, Shirley tried to be as enthusiastic as possible. Shaking his hand, she said, "George, it was nice meeting you. I'll have the money for you soon, thanks for everything."

George managed to mutter an "Okay, goodbye," as she left.

**…..**

3:45 P.M.

Biff had to come into George's office, just as he was beginning to relax again, opening the door without knocking, as usual. "McFly, my car is in the shop, so I'm takin' yours tonight. Gonna be going out with the guys, I'll drop it off either tonight or tomorrow morning."

George agreed, although with some inner reluctance. "Uh, well, okay Biff, the keys are in the upper-right drawer."

As he opened it, he noticed some random papers with George's writing clearly on them. "What's this stuff here?"

George got worried. He knew he'd never have the confidence to even politely ask Biff to stop, let alone demand it. However, he didn't want anyone, particularly Biff, looking at his Science Fiction stories. That had been a secret interest of his since he was in Junior High. He also knew if anyone was going to make fun of them, it would be Biff.

"What do you even got on here? These ain't my reports, but I know it's your writing."

Squeamishly, he managed a response. "Well, Biff, I was just writing some random thoughts down on paper. It was from some new TV show that Dave was watching the other night. I don't know, I forgot about it until now." He didn't know what Biff would say or if he'd buy it. He had somewhat surprised even himself by making a quick fib comeback like that. He had seen Marty do it so much, though.

"It sounds like a weird show, whatever it is. I kinda wonder about Area 51. Those government buttheads might know about aliens, but if they did, they're not gonna tell us. Not unless someone goes to Washington and gives 'em all a good knuckle sandwich anyway," he said, in typical Biff fashion, not remembering Area 51 was in New Mexico.

Hearing the jangle of keys in his hand, Biff suddenly remembered why he originally came in. "Well, it's Friday night, time for me to get loaded now! If Strickland asks where I am, either say you don't know, or make something up. See you later, McFly."

He said he would. Relieved that he got away with Biff seeing his stories, George stopped to think about how he was going to get home. He obviously wasn't going to walk over eight miles along a partially narrow road. He wasn't sure what time the bus was scheduled to come either. He contemplated asking someone for a ride, but was too afraid they would be busy and/or say no. He still hated rejections like that, so he just as soon not ask. Strangely enough, he had become more independent that way. Although still not sure if Lorraine would be mad, and not wanting to find out, he thought he had no choice but to call home.

**…..**

Back at the McFly's house, Lorraine had just put the finishing touches on Joey's cake. The kids helped her put the decorations and frosting on, although with some reluctance. She was disappointed that Marty wasn't there to help, but he almost always came home later than he could have. _Must be with weird scientist, or that bad influence of a girlfriend, Jennifer,_ she thought this as she took another sip of Vodka while watching TV in the living room.

Dave was busy in his room. He wanted to relax a little before his part-time evening shift at Burger King started. He had his driver's license, but didn't have a car at the moment, so he loved reading every new issue of _Motor Trade_. On his bed, half-awake, he started flipping through the pages. Much like his dad, he started laughing out loud for no reason at times. On this occasion, it was when he came across an article about the engine power of an '82 Chevy Caprice.

"Ha ha ha. Caprice has got more than that! Only 100 horsepower, no way, man!"

Linda was occupied as well. This was usually the case, seeing as she lately stayed home most of the time, or went out with some random guy. Right now, she was sitting on the floor fiddling with hair-curlers and simultaneously taking a quiz in Seventeen Magazine, entitled, _Are you jealous that your female friend is with the guy you really want?_ As of now, every single answer was pointing to a _Yes_. At that exact second, the phone rang. Lost in the quiz, she was startled and loudly called out, "Mom! Dave! Would somebody get the phone, I don't want to!"

Lorraine just said, "I'm busy, honey. David is resting, just get it, okay, please!"

Linda bookmarked the current page and quickly reached up, "Yeah, what," she said, extremely unexcited and almost mad.

"Oh, hey Linda, it's me," George said weakly and quietly.

Already sensing something was up, in a very deadpan manner, she asked, "Well, what's going on now? Where are you dad?"

"At the bank right now. You see what happened is Biff borrowed the car from me just a few minutes ago."

Linda was continuously being astonished at how wimpy he was. She understood why Marty could be so ashamed of him. "Not him again. Why won't that weirdo just take somebody else's car? He should take Lester's or something. He'd tell Biff okay twice in a row."

At that mention, George began to break into his all too common laughing fit. Even he never quite knew why Lester repeated himself a lot. "Ha ha ha, you're right. I think he would maybe do that."

The slight laugh on the other end of the line turned to an embarrassing look of disgust. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, "How did that meeting or whatever it was go this morning?"

At least it went better than it started, in George's mind. "Uh, I suppose it went okay. Strickland talked to all of us about our job performances, and what we're going to get paid. He also talked about our finances and what we should do about it. I forgot all of what it was, by now though. I'll, I just will have to ask him again on Monday. He was kind of angry at all of us this morning."

Linda shrugged. "Dang, that guy is just like his brother from school."

He remembered back to high school, when the ever-ubiquitous Vice Principal would berate him and almost anyone else over small things. He had a constant reminder of that at work every day. "Yeah, they are brothers, so that's why they much act similar to how the other one does."

Seeing that not every conversation between him and his daughter went peachy, yet this one seemed at least okay, George shifted gears and asked what he'd originally wanted to. "Look, I have to ask you about mom. Is she still mad at me over what happened this morning?"

Most of the time, Linda sided with her mom. As everyone else though, she wasn't too crazy about Uncle Joey staying over. She wished her dad could just talk to her normally and not be so afraid of her. "Mom's not mad at you, dad. She just wants Joey to stay at the house. I'm not really in the mood to see him, so I'm just gonna stay in here."

"I suppose I agree with you. I don't have a lot in common with Joey either," George said, then asking for what he had called for in the first place. "Well, since mom isn't mad at me, could you ask if she could pick me up here? As long as she doesn't mind coming out in rush hour traffic."

Suddenly, being sort of glad that was all it was, she somewhat blandly said, "Yeah, I'll go tell her. She ain't gonna be any more mad than this morning though. She already baked Joey that welcoming cake. I'll get mom. I guess I'll just see you when you get home."

Hoping for the best, George simply said, "Okay I'll see you, bye."

Begrudgingly, Linda put the magazine down and went towards the master bedroom. "Mom, that was dad on the phone!"

"What did he want, honey?"

"Biff borrowed his car, and now he needs a ride home. Can you go get him? I can't because I got that speeding ticket and if I get stopped again, that's really gonna suck!"

Dave overheard this and spoke up. "Geez, Biff! That dude is such a loser, and he's coming over here all the time. Can't he just go easy on dad, he's such a prick!"

"Don't talk like that, David. He's not my favorite person in the world either, but he is your father's supervisor. Now, you have to be at work in a couple hours, so why don't you just rest here and I'll go out."


	5. Lorraine Picks George Up

4:50 PM.

Lorraine arrived at the bank to pick up George. Being caught in the rush of traffic made her irritable, not to mention the anxiety of Uncle Joey, and no one being on her side when it came to that subject. She angrily honked the horn for a few seconds, hoping it would get George's attention. As usual though, he didn't get the hint. _He must be in there doing something for somebody or laughing to himself again_.

Realizing she'd have to go in, she reapplied some of her makeup, hoping to get noticed by some of the guys who might be there. She had never gotten over her own feelings of wanting to date more and do what most teenagers and young women did. After meeting George, she fell in love with him, mostly out of sympathy, not true love. Getting a few stares from some young guys was one of the few things that could make her somewhat happy in life.

Putting her Max Factor kit away, she started in to the bank. Sure enough, she got a few looks from passerbys on the street. Now feeling better, she went inside and walks over to George's office. The door was closed and the bank was fairly empty aside from customers and a few tellers. Noticing Lester, she asked, "Hi there, Lester. Do you know if George is here right now?"

Abruptly looking up from his assignment, he quickly said, "Oh, yeah, Lorraine. I don't know how much more work he has to do. He's been in there for a while now. He might be working on some important papers. Yeah, maybe some papers"

Lorraine thanked him and went to the office. Knocking on the door, she said, "George, are you in there? I'm here now. I would've come sooner, but there was an accident on the way here. Backed up forever."

On the other side of the door, George was working on a crossword puzzle in the back of the Hill Valley Telegraph. "Oh, Lorraine, come in. This puzzle was just getting kind of hard. I must have just lost track of time. I didn't know you were already here, but, uh, okay, we can go now."

Just as they were about to turn away, James Strickland comes walking by. "Hello, Mrs. McFly. It is 5:00, are you both planning to leave now? Only losers leave before the day is over."

She was suddenly angry again because of this hound of a boss George had. Obviously he would never even attempt to challenge the guy either. Lorraine spoke up, "Yes, Mr. Strickland, we're going. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, I just wondered why you were both going together, that's all. Didn't you come in your own car this morning, McFly?"

Not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to give Biff away and possibly take the blame from Biff later, he said, "No, I actually got here another way today. Our son, Dave, was the one who took me. He didn't come in though, that's why you didn't see him." Luckily for George, his boss didn't know that Dave didn't even have a car anymore.

In a turn of events, Strickland asked, "That reminds me, where is your supervisor? I haven't seen him in awhile."

George had to think of a way out of this. It was just the question, he hoped wouldn't come up. "I, I don't know. Maybe he's just getting something else done and you'll run into him soon. I saw him go in the bathroom earlier."

That was satisfactory enough. The boss just said, "Well, next time I see Mr. Tannen, I'm going to tell him to stay in my sights and not be such a loser! Have a good weekend, McFly, that was good coffee this morning, Now, just be on time next Monday." Strickland than walked away and went back to his office.

With that, the couple headed out to Lorraine's 1982 red Ford Taurus station wagon. As soon as they left the parking lot and were out on the road, Lorraine talked about a few things. First was her job. 

"Ever since I got fired, I've just been so depressed. I had that job for almost 20 years. How could they fire me? All I did was take one sip of wine during lunch. It's not like I hadn't done it before!"

In George's mind, this was not good. She was getting upset again, and he never knew how to react to this. This is sometimes why he would try to tune her out. "I don't think it was anything against you. Anybody else who worked there would've likely been fired if they did it, too."

"Yes, but, why wouldn't they fire me earlier when they found out I like to drink sometimes? I didn't have the whole bottle! With what I had, my working wasn't affected," she said honestly.

"You could be right about that. Maybe they didn't know how much you actually had. What if you asked for your job back? You were there for a long time. Just tell your boss how sorry you are." He trailed off before breaking again into a nervous laugh.

Sensing that this conversation was going nowhere, she changed the subject. "I just want to know why you told Biff he could have the car."

George just weakly replied, "He wanted it for a few hours. I can't tell him no. He'll probably have it back tonight. He said that's what he would do."

In an almost argumentative voice, Lorraine shot back, "It's bad enough to tell Marty he could have it, but not Biff too. Besides, do you really think Marty will get it back on time Sunday morning?"

In the slightest attempt at a defense, George just sniveled, "I suppose sometimes he might run a little late, but I don't think he means to. If he and his friends are camping, he could accidentally oversleep. That's always a possibility."

Sighing, she just went, "Yeah, whatever. At least that's better than him going up there with Jennifer. Imagine that, George, one of our boys actually going on a full-on date with a girl. Besides, he's always around her and talking about her, that's probably next. I don't want our little boy doing that, do you?"

She thought to herself about how hypocritical that sounded. Deep down, she didn't feel there was anything wrong with girls chasing boys, and vice versa. She only lived the lie by claiming she felt that way, because she was sad about basically losing her own youthful romantic possibilities. Being married to a guy who was not only a complete wimp, but to whom she wasn't even really attracted to had put her life in a downward spiral. She always wanted a man to stand up for her, not the other way around. At times, she almost thought she was jealous of her own teenage son for having a steady, seemingly loving and exciting relationship.

George sat there, scratching his head and, although he didn't see too much wrong with it, even if it was with Jennifer, he just said, "Marty might want to go on a big date with Jennifer at some time, maybe not now, but a little later. They do seem to like each other."

Lorraine shrugged and said, "I just get worried about that. Our kids are almost all grown now. Just the other day, they were little babies. Not long before that, we were their age and fresh in love, don't you remember that?"

George was looking half down and half out the window and not really paying attention as she continued. "How nice it was, just you and me alone together, before the kids came along. We would just sit around talking all day, or go out at night. Every time my birthday came up, it was like I had another year to look forward to."

All that was partially fibbing. She wasn't madly in love with George now, or ever really. However, he was the only boyfriend she ever had, let alone a real relationship. Before that, she'd just gone on a few dates with some random guys from school. She told these stories in George's presence often in the hopes he would respond back with the same sentiment. He raely did, though.

"Oh, yeah. All of that was nice. Speaking of birthdays, yours is coming soon, on November 28th, and I'm sure the kids will get you something. What is there you want, though?"

Thinking it would be to no avail, she said the truth. "George, all I want is a romantic dinner, like the kind we used to have, especially at Lou's Café."

At that moment, lost in conversation, they passed the scene of the accident that Lorraine mentioned coming the opposite way. By now, police and a tow truck were there. Luckily for the McFlys, they were too busy to realize their other car was the one involved, or that Biff was there.


	6. On the Accident Scene

5:10 PM.

On the scene of Biff's accident at the end of town, a police car was there while Officer Janet Foley was in the road directing traffic. Biff looked mad and was standing on the side of the road. He popped several cinnamon Tic Tacs into his mouth, trying hard to mask the odor of beer.

Donald Jones, an 86 year-old retired manure truck driver, was also involved in the accident. His van was much less damaged though, partially because of its size. Officer Katie Reese was taking statements from both of them.

"That's a h*ll of a big dent, what happened here, Mr. Jones?"

The still feisty and confident old man proclaimed, "I was just going along at normal speed and before I knew it, this bozo broadsided my van!"

Reese could sense they not only knew each other, but weren't exactly the best of friends. She asked for more details from Jones. "Did you see him coming at all?"

"Not until it was too darn late. I swerved a little so the impact wouldn't be so big. I can't believe this fool runs a stop sign at 30 miles an hour."

Reese looked right at Biff. "Is that true, Mr. Tannen? The information and the skid marks at the scene do match up with that."

In typical tough guy bravado, Biff came up with something. "It might look that way, officer, but he crashed into me. All you gotta do is look at him. Do you want an old codger like this on the road? I'm not saying I'm the youngest guy in the world anymore either, but I got almost 40 years before I'm this senile. The old f*rt probably forget his hearing aid and didn't hear me honkin'." Biff again laughed at his joke. He loved telling people off and being a smart aleck. Ever since elementary school, that never changed.

Getting angry, the older man half yelled. "You weren't honking, Tannen! You're probably just in a hurry to cause some more trouble like always. Just like you and your hooligan friends used to do. All you have kids just like yourselves now. You must be proud!"

That seriously made Biff mad. "Hey, I am proud of them, but what the h*ll do our kids have to do with this? You better leave them out of this or I'm knocking your dentures out, grandpa!"

Office Reese jumped a bit, but stayed firm. "Any more threats, Mr. Tannen and you could be arrested here and now."

Looking up, Biff again realized where he was. "I apologize, ma'am, I really do, but I just don't like him insulting my family, or even me. He don't really even know me, he thinks he does, and likes to get in everyone's business. Still mad at what we did 25, 30 years ago, but that don't mean he can fault me for running that light!"

"You did run the light." Turning to Reese, Jones said, "I've known this guy since he was a teenager, and he's still a punk!"

Biff tensed up even more. "A punk, what did you just call me, old man? Lookie what we have here. I was the one who called the tow truck and waited almost an hour! What do I get from you?" He did a poor, exaggerated imitation of a really old person. "_Oh, look what this whippersnapper used to do when he was a teenage whippersnapper. By golly_."

Reese was almost too nice sometimes. She also had a sense of humor, but couldn't take this anymore. "Both of you, that's enough! This is worse than babysitting. My 3 year-old daughter is better behaved than you guys, I swear. But, than again, she wants to be a cop when she grows up. Now, about this accident, I believe it was an honest mistake on both your parts, but we're going to do a background check on you, Mr. Tannen."

She radioed his name into dispatch. The following information came back.

"_Name: Biff Thomas Tannen._

_Age: 47._

_Address: 300 Main Street, Apartment 7, Hill Valley._

_Priors: Theft, 1953. DUI, 1959, 1966, and 1974. Fist fight, 1960. Public drunkenness, 1983._

_Marital status: Divorced since 1978._

_Children: Stephanie, 19; Biff Junior, 17_. "

She needed to take all that in for a moment. She looked at the pattern of drunk driving. It averaged once in a little under a decade. By that logic, he was almost overdue for another one now. She thought Biff was creepy and a jerk too, but obviously she couldn't charge him with that.

"There's no sufficient evidence, so I'm going to let you go, Tannen, but be careful in the future. It's dangerous to enter without watching the road. Now you said the car belongs to a man you work with, George McFly?"

Glad that he got out of it, he said, "Yeah, you got it, that's McFly's car, told me I could borrow it."

"Just to let you know, the interior is okay, but the front end is going to need some serious body work. For now, I suggest having it towed. The rest you'll have to work out later. You're free to go as well, Mr. Jones, I think your van will also need work, but it's safe to drive. I see the tow truck coming, now have a nicer day, both of you." Turning to her partner, she said, "Let's go, Janet," just as another call came over their car radio.


	7. A Nostalgic Tow Truck Ride

Out of the truck stepped someone else Biff knew, 54 year-old former mechanic Terry Smith. He still worked on cars part-time as a hobby, but he now owned a towing service.

Biff, what's going on, old buddy? This is one messed up wreck here."

Glad to see who it was, Biff remarked, "What's going on, Terry? I just had a h*ll of a day. This is McFly's car, and I just got into an accident with Old Man Jones."

"Old Man Jones? You mean he's still allowed to drive at his age? Sorry to hear it, Biff."

"Tell me about it. So where should we tow this thing to? I think we should just drop it at his house. He can do whatever to get it fixed himself. It serves him for not telling me anything about it having a blind spot."

"Well that sure is a bummer. Hey, can you get back in and turn it around. It'll be easier to get on the ramp that way."

"Yeah, I could." Biff said as looked at the twilight sky, thinking about how bad of a day this had become. He would just have to reschedule going to that party tonight, unless 3-D or someone else could pick him up.

After about five minutes, the two middle-aged men managed to get the tangled car reversed up on the tow truck. The traffic was again slowing to a crawl. Muttering a few cuss words to himself, Biff got in the passenger side.

As they drove off, Biff told Terry, "Let me tell you, I just caught a lucky break with the cops. They thought I was responsible for it. The senile old man wasn't looking, end of story." He knew he was the one responsible, but would never admit that, even to himself.

Terry knew his somewhat younger friend could bend the truth sometimes, so he asked, "Do you think any of that could be true? I mean, I've been driving for 40 years and in the business of cars almost that long too. Even I do stuff sometimes, like turning the radio or food, and I might take an eye off the road for a second or too. Stuff happens, Biff."

"Yeah, that could be. Look, what happens is I'm looking for some music on the radio. After awhile, I stopped caring what kind of music it was. I'd listen to anything from Classical to Heavy Metal rather than a bunch of stupid commercials and traffic reports. I swear, these buttheads should advertise a commercial station with music breaks. Ha ha ha ha." The moment Biff stopped laughing at his own joke again, he said, "But that wasn't the cause of the accident, I do that in my own car. It's a combination of Jones, as well as McFly's d*mn blind spot."

Terry sided with Biff now. "Well, I can believe that. It was obviously Jones' fault if he ran that red light at the intersection. Can you believe he actually made a living owning a manure hauling business? Who would actually want to handle that s**t all day?"

"You got me. What I really hate about this whole thing is that I couldn't go out tonight. I got off work early, and borrowed McFly's junker to go up to a party at 3-D's house. Maybe I can just go tomorrow."

Hey, I tell you what, Biff. We'll go drop the car off, and then I can go get a 6-pack for you, and take you back home. If I get another radio call, I'll just tell them I'm busy. I'm off at 8 o'clock tonight as well."

"Hey, thanks a lot, Terry. I've already got some beer, I'll split that with you."

"Oh, yeah, I think I could use some myself. How did you already get beer now?"

"Well, you see, it's the weirdest thing. I bought a 12-pack from Toby's 7-11. I wasn't drinking nothing, but I happened to have it in the car with me. Now if the cops were to see that, I'd be dead meat, especially since my a** has already been arrested for DUI 3 times over the years. God, I'm glad they didn't search the car. I spilled some soy sauce on my suit earlier. Good thing they didn't think it was beer," he said, still not wanting Terry to know he was driving drunk.

Part of that was true, but he tossed the can he was drinking away in a nearby trash can before the police arrived. Also when Jones wasn't looking, he put the 11 remaining cans of the 12-pack into George's trunk, which was, luckily for Biff, undamaged and unlocked.

Terry was getting frustrated at the traffic. "You know, with this traffic, who knows when we'll actually get to George's house. I wish they'd got some kind of shortcut on this thing. This area is all developed now; it's not like when you were a kid and you could just drive across the field. It looks like I might have to call Gloria and tell her I'm coming home late."

"Oh, Gloria. How is she? Is she still working on that clocktower thing?"

"Yeah, it's something, huh. She sure doesn't want it getting replaced. Who would've thought somebody would want to save a broken clock? It's not like it's a statue or a monument. But, I guess she just thinks it's sentimental though. If she wants to do that, it's fine with me." At that moment, he got reminiscent. "She was always into that clock, ever since we met. I just think if it was a brand new clock, it would work. Plus, lightning could hit it again, so what's the big fuss? I'll still support her, she's my loving wife."

"You guys have stayed together longer that I've ever been married. Lea thought I'm a bad influence on the kids, and I never had a girlfriend very long either. I remember you met Gloria right around when I started driving and taking my Ford into your old shop. This one day, you seemed unusually happy, and I asked you why."

"Yeah, those were the days. I think one reason we doesn't get each other crazy nowadays is that we're not together every second of every day. We all get into arguments every so often. Remember, even you and me? Sometimes you'd be ticked off that new tires or an oil change was so much. It don't mean you didn't still talk to me or come into the shop, though."

"Yeah, I can think of that. I was mad just because I didn't have that much money. Almost like now. At least the d*mn traffic is going away. From here, it ain't far to McFly's house."

It might've been only 5 miles away or so, but it would still be awhile before he got there.


	8. Biff Shows Up

5:50 PM.

Even though the main backup had passed, it still took George & Lorraine awhile to get back to Lyon Estates. Even at this time, rush hour traffic was still flowing by on the now suburbanized two-lane highway. When they did, Lorraine announced her next plans.

"George, now I want you to help me prepare for Joey's visit tonight, okay?"

He didn't share the disdain his kids did, but was never that fond of the guy either. "Are you sure the kids won't help. I mean, together, that would be three people. Or, two, once Dave goes to work."

"Do you have to argue over everything? Just set the table and I'll do the rest if you don't want to help out," she said solemnly and almost sadly as they exited the car and walked up the driveway, just as it was beginning to get dark.

As much as he was afraid of her getting mad at him, George didn't like to see her unhappy, either. "Okay dear, I'm sorry I said that. I'll set the table for Joey if you want."

"Thank you. Now, let's see if Marty is here yet. He wasn't when I left," Lorraine went in and turned right. "Marty! Martin, are you here? If you are, you had better talk, young man!"

As he turned to watch TV, George said, "Now, remember, he had his band audition today. It's nothing to really be worried about. He and his friends sometimes rehearse for awhile."

"Yeah, whatever he's doing, he's up to no good. He better be on his way back, or else." At this time, she heard TV that she didn't recognize as old programming.

"_Kansas City Royals currently in the lead against the St. Louis Cardinals, as we head to a commercial_. _The 1985 World Series is brought to you by…Pepsi Free_. _Finally, a soft drink without any sugar_."

A commercial then started.

"_Electronics prices, lower than you ever thought possible. This weekend only, at Circuit City. Get this dual cassette Panasonic boombox, with surround sound, high-speed dubbing, Chrome tape capability, and a DC input, for only 69.99. Ever wanted to change the channel without getting up? No problem, with this all new remote control 19-inch television with a built-in antenna from Sony. Only 399.99, with no interest until January 1987. These, and many more sales, one weekend only. Sale ends October 27th._"

"Why is the sports game on, George? Turn that mindless show off," Lorraine barked, while fixing up the kitchen.

"I wasn't watching it. Dave might've left the television on. I'm sure I'll hear what the score is sometime anyway," he turned it back on a retro station, where there would be a _Honeymooners_ rerun at 6:30. Right now, it was an old episode of _I Love Lucy_.

"_Hey, Lucy. I'm home!_'"

George began to break out in laughter, especially after the long day he just got off of. "Ha ha ha ha," he continued, pointing at the TV. "Ricky is funny. Just how he says it. Ah ha ha ha."

"Did you forget that you just said you'd help me out here? We've got family visiting, and all you can do is sit in front of that d*mn TV set! Either you help me, or one of us is gonna go stay at a motel."

It wasn't hard to see why his mind naturally blocked her out sometimes, but he instantly knew she meant business, and agreed. It's just that those TV shows, much like Science Fiction writing, were escapes for him.

"I could start with the napkins, or something. Do you just want me to clean it up or-"

Before Lorraine could say anything, the phone rang. Since she was the closest, Lorraine answered it, in hopes it was Joey saying he was on his way in from Sacramento.

"Hello."

After a smile faded from her face, and she looked even more depressed, the talking continued for a few minutes, most of it being listening.

"So, the parole board didn't even consider it? Oh, Joe, listen, sweetie, you did a nonviolent crime to begin with, and they let armed robbers, who are supposedly reformed, get parole ahead of you. That's awful. Well, you know, you're my baby brother, and you always have a place to stay for when you get out. George and the kids really miss you, too. Say, hel-, oh, don't worry, I will. Hope we can talk soon. Bye-bye."

She set the phone down ever so silently and slowly, as George looked over in interest and concern.

"Well, what happened with Joey?"

"What didn't happen, George? That young man has had such a hard life. Hardened criminals are getting parole before him, and all he got caught with was a pound of Cocaine. How could this happen in modern times?"

"I don't know, but, he might get another chance. I'm just, I'm sorry, okay."

"Well, you got your wish. You can go back to watching that stupid old TV. I'm going to go rest for a while. I'll make dinner in an hour or so."

6:34 PM.

After over an hour of driving, complaining and reminiscing, Biff & Terry in the tow truck finally made a sharp left turn into Lyon Estates. Terry asked, "Now, which house does he live in?"

"Oh, you don't have to do any turning, it just up ahead on the right." When they got to the McFly's house, Biff got out.

"Terry, could you back it into the driveway? I'm going in to talk to that Irish bug, let him know what he lent me! I'll be out in a few minutes." Terry agreed and slowly tried a way to back up in the narrow, dead-end suburban street.

Biff stormed up the driveway, his green suit flopping in the wind, still somewhat angry over the incident. He opened the screen door and loudly knocked on the main front door.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Dave was just emerging from the hallway, getting ready to go to work, holding his Burger King shirt when he heard a few loud bangs. "Hey, I'll get that." He begrudgingly went to answer it, thinking it might just be another salesman. He was a little annoyed at who it was coming over again.

"Jeez, Biff, what the h*ll are you doing now? Come here at dinner to bug dad about more work that you're too lazy to do yourself, dude?"

Biff shot him a dirty look. "It doesn't concern you, butthead! Now don't give me any crap and get me your old man!"

Not wanting to argue with the wild man and hoping he would just get lost soon, Dave just sighed and mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." He turned and went into the dining room where George was watching TV. "Dad, sorry, but Biff is here again, he wants to see you about something," George's older son announced, before going back into his bedroom, not caring to be around this guy a second longer then he had to.

George turned the show down. "Okay Dave, thank you, I'll come to the door in a minute." Turning around, he saw Biff already in the house, froze and just worriedly said, "Oh no, Biff, what happened here? Is something the matter?"

Stating the obvious, Biff said, "Yeah, McFly, something sure is wrong. I got into an accident with your car, and I had to wait two hours. The cops even came and questioned me before I sat in Alaskan traffic just to get back here," he messed another saying up.

Knowing how upset Biff would be at little things sometimes, George got extremely worried at what could happen here. "Biff, I don't know what to say about this accident. I didn't know it would happen." Leaning on the dining room table and slightly walking back in forth in a nervous manner, he just continued, "It could've, it could've been the other drivers' fault. Not everyone pays attention all the time."

Biff reaffirmed "You're d*mn right it was the other driver's fault. Some old man who still thinks he can drive at almost 90 years old."

Hoping it would get Biff back on his side, George had to agree. "90. Well, that's true. At that age, his reflexes might be too slow, so he should maybe just get somebody to drive him around. It must've been a mistake he made."

Looking freely at the family's things as he walked around the living room, Biff went, "Well, you got that one right, McFly, but still, the accident might not have happened in a different car."

George didn't quite know what Biff meant. "A different car? Why not?"

6:38 PM.

Marty raced up his driveway with his Valtera skateboard in hand. He was in shock and upset at the site of the wrecked car just being backed into the driveway. He had a rough day too, and was exhausted spending two hours cleaning up the accidental mess he made at Doc's place. All he wanted was to take that car up to the lake with Jennifer. Her 17th birthday was the following Tuesday, making it even more special.

Somehow he knew Biff was responsible for this. "Perfect, just perfect," he said out loud, slightly angered. His instinct was proven right, when he heard the obnoxious voice coming from his house.

Inside, Biff continued arguing. "I can't even see out your rear view mirror. I haven't driven that Plymouth in a couple of years. What were you thinking, McFly? I can't believe you loan me your car, without telling me you had a blind spot. I could've been killed," Biff loudly ranted as he stiffly pointed to George with his right hand.

George briefly interjected, softly saying "Blind spot" to himself. He had, in fact, noticed the mirrors, but it was only a slight problem. He couldn't bring himself to say that though, instead just pretending not to know.

Looking halfway at the front door and making hand gestures, George just tried to reason with him. "Now, now, Biff, now, I never noticed that, uh, the car had any blind spot before whenever I would drive it."

Noticing a somewhat upset looking Marty in the doorway, he weakly turned to him in an ashamed, embarrassed look, he softened his voice and just said, "Hi son."

THE END.


	9. History is Gonna Change

Hill Valley High School  
8:33 A.M.

"Yeah, well, history's gonna change," Marty McFly said slowly yet confidently as he stared down his vice-principal -- now standing an uncomfortable couple inches away from his own face -- slightly annoyed at the man for consistently putting him down (among others).

"Take that tone with me one more time, young man, and you'll be in detention every day until 1986! Assuming you graduate at all," Gerald Strickland shot back, a little surprised by his student talking back to him to that much of an extent (even if he did have a loud mouth).

"Now, if you know what's good for you, get to class and be on your best behavior, Mr. McFly. I need to have a word with your young lady friend here."

Turning to Marty's ever-attentive girlfriend, as he walked briskly away, Strickland's demeanor was a little different. Jennifer usually didn't cut classes or even get tardies, for that matter. "Miss Parker," he began calmly, "I'm frankly disappointed in you. I realize you're dating a McFly, but why were you plotting to help the hooligan sneak onto school grounds this morning?"

Jennifer blushed a little, clearly embarrassed and torn between whose side to take.

"I'm sorry about that Mr. Strickland. It's just that the last three days, Marty was late because his watch isn't working that good. Plus, you know how he can get carried away with the slightest thing," she said, half-jokingly, but in an attempt to get him on her side as much as possible. "Umm, anyway, I kinda saw a pattern and figured he might be late today too. It's not really my nature to get anyone in trouble, but I didn't want him getting his 4th tardy slip."

"I can buy that, Miss Parker. Just don't allow that to happen again. I personally think it's a waste of time dating a kid like that, but I won't involve myself in your business, as long as it doesn't affect your behavior or your school performance. Now, I should contact your father about this, but I'll let it slide, simply because you made the honor roll last semester and I know you're a different class of person than he is. By the way, how long have you been dating that McFly boy?" he suddenly asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"A couple weeks before last Christmas. December 12th, I think," she said, matter-of-factly. True, she didn't care for him talking about her boyfriend like that, but ironically she wasn't mad at him in general.

"Well, that proves your knowing him didn't stop you from getting there. I just think it's turning into a vicious cycle. He hangs around his friend Doctor Brown enough to start becoming influenced by him, then Marty McFly starts to influence you into getting in trouble. As I stated, though, unlike those two, I think you're smart enough to do the right thing. Maybe you can reverse the trend and turn him into a good student." Noting the time, he concluded the conversation with, "You can go to your first class now."

Giving each other a simple nod to acknowledge a goodbye, the disciplinarian stiffly and uprightly walked away, muttering to himself, "I'm gonna finally get that slacker!"

Walking down to the music history class on the upper floor of the building, the balding man opened the door and (although it was now a good 5 minutes into class time, and students were starting to study that morning's assignment) simply walked in and said, "Mr. Cregg. I need to have a word with you if that's okay."

Anthony Cregg, a man in his early 50's with a semi deep, loud & powerful voice and graying hair, said, "Keep workin' guys. I'll be right back."

"Hey Gerald, what can I do for ya?" he said, as they stepped just outside the classroom.

"Sorry to disturb you, Tony, but I've got a little favor to ask," he said, and without a segue or wasting any time, he continued, "You know a Martin McFly here? Was he ever in your class?"

"Certainly. Last year, he had my class on 19th century musical history. I admit I think he's a good kid underneath, but boy was he a smart aleck. He had the nerve to say that he knew it was gonna 'bore the hell out of him' because it 'didn't have rock & roll or anything since Elvis'. I joke you not, some of these kids have no appreciation for anything before 20 or 30 years ago."

Strickland nodded in agreement. "That sounds like something that slacker would say! Speaking of this, his band, The Pinheads, is slated to perform at the dance auditions today. I know you'll be there. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask you permanently disqualify them. That young man needs to learn a few life lessons the hard way."

Anthony Cregg smiled a bit, but asked, "C'mon Gerald. I know he's not the most scholastic or best behaving kid, but is that fair? Besides, what should I say? I can't just say they can't perform."

"I'm confident that you'll think of something. McFly sure likes to show off in front of people, especially his friends. Simply tell them they're out of tune, or that his choice of an even louder rendition of a song from Loverboy or Bryan Adams, or any other of those noisy bands he listens to, is not appropriate material for a school dance."

Laughing a bit, the teacher said, "I doubt it'll take him long to break one of those rules. You're right about the showing off too. He even told me I sounded like Huey Lewis in front of the whole class just for a laugh one day."

"He won't last long at any job he has with that attitude. Thank you for your troubles, Tony," Strickland said as he walked back down the hallways, actually cracking a bit of an evil smile.


End file.
